


The Christmas Kitty

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Baking, Cheshire Grell, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Other, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: When you learn to your dismay that your boss wants you to work on Christmas, your wife (Cheshire) Grelle is determined to give you a happy Christmas Eve.
Relationships: Cheshire Grell/Reader, Grell Sutcliff/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	The Christmas Kitty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosmicLion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicLion/gifts).



> An early Christmas gift for cosmiclion on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy some quality time with the soft kitty wife!
> 
> I deliberately left the reader's race, ethnicity, gender identity, etc. ambiguous so that any reader can put themselves in Y/N's shoes.

Snowflakes drifted down outside your window, though it was warm and toasty in the apartment you shared with Grelle. The Christmas tree was festooned with tinsel and dozens of shining ornaments, and a large pile of presents (mostly wrapped in bright red paper) lay beneath. On the radio, Andy Williams reminded you that it was the most wonderful time of the year while you lounged in a comfy armchair, finishing off your mug of cocoa. You ought to have been in the holiday spirit. Instead, you were despondent. Your boss had phoned earlier that day to inform you that one of your co-workers had called in sick, which meant that you would have to come in tomorrow to work on _Christmas Day_!

You wouldn’t be able to celebrate Christmas with your friends and family…or with your wife. Grelle had been understanding (‘You can’t help that your boss is so bloody horrid, darling!’), but you still felt downtrodden. Your Christmas with Grelle was supposed to be special. You sighed, staring glumly at the bottom of your mug.

A soft jingle sounded next to you. Think of the kitty, and she would appear. Grelle had attached a little bell to her collar—always one to coordinate her outfit with the occasion, your Grelle. The next thing you knew, Grelle was draped across your lap, blinking up at you with those bewitching green eyes. “Oh, come now, my sweet,” she mewed. “Stop moping.”

“I’m not moping,” you mumbled.

“Yes, you _are_ , (Y/N). Don’t try to pussyfoot around the issue. I know we can’t have our Christmas together like we’d planned, but we still have Christmas _Eve_ , don’t we?”

“Well, yeah.”

You set down the mug and buried your fingers in her thick, fluffy hair, eventually scratching behind her soft, furry ears. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she purred in contentment. In spite of yourself, you smiled.

“Theeeeere we go!” she crooned, reaching up to playfully boop your nose with hers. “That’s more like it!” She leapt from your lap and took you by the hand.

“We are going to _enjoy_ ourselves today, _mon ange_ ,” she called over her shoulder as she dragged you to the kitchen. “Starting with a little holiday baking.”

“But we’re both terrible cooks, Grelle,” you reminded her apprehensively.

She waved aside your concerns. “ _Nya_! The power of our undying affection will see us through! As they say, the torch of love is lit in the kitchen.”

You weren’t so sure about that, but you just shook your head in fond exasperation. Grelle fished out a box of cake mix and tossed it to you. “Read me the instructions, there’s a love. We can’t go wrong if we follow the steps.”

“You never follow the directions, Grelle,” you chuckled, but you read them off as she traipsed around the kitchen, throwing upon cupboards willy-nilly and tossing the ingredients onto the kitchen table.

“Uh, Grelle, I think we were supposed to use two cups of flour, not three.”

“Nonsense! What’s a little extra flour here or there? Speaking of…”

A bit of flour had gotten in your hair and on your face when Grelle overzealously dumped it in the mixing bowl, and she set to work cleaning you with her rough kitty tongue. You blushed a little. Grelle could be sweet as sugar sometimes, she really could.

There were a few more mishaps. Since you dropped the last egg on the floor after Grelle surprised you with a playful attack from behind, you didn’t have enough to add enough to the batter. Grelle became more interested in batting chocolate chips around on the table with her paws than stirring the mix (her feline instincts sometimes took control). After putting the cake in the oven, you two got so caught up in singing Christmas songs together that it ended up burnt to a crisp. Looking from the charred cake to each other, you both burst out laughing.

“Oh _nya_!” Grelle tittered.

“I don’t know what I expected,” you sighed, though you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. You gave a yelp of surprise as Grelle slung you over her shoulder and sauntered towards the Christmas tree.

“Hey!”

“I want to cuddle, darling!” she insisted, setting you down gently and nestling against you. “Think about _me_ , not tomorrow’s work.” She was needy for attention, but you were more than happy to give it to her. She purred as you ran your fingers through her hair and stroked the plume of her tail. Her warm, comforting scent reminded you that you were _home_. In her arms, you felt cherished and protected, and she giggled as you softly kissed as many of the cute little freckles across the bridge of her nose as you could. After several peaceful minutes had passed, you were seized by a mischievous impulse. Gripping her tail near the base, you yanked—not enough to hurt, but enough so that she’d _feel_ it. Grelle moaned, low and sultry.

“Could you do that again, honey?”

You did, harder this time, and the sight of her blush made your breath catch in your throat. She nipped at your neck, and you whimpered, clapping a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Grelle pulled it down.

“No, _no_ , poppet, I like doing this to you,” she purred, pushing at your shoulders so that your back hit the floor. She kissed you with a voracious pleasure, her fingers interlacing with yours as she straddled you, holding you down.

“This is the best place for unwrapping gifts, and I think I have my favorite present riiiiight here,” she drawled.

So what if you had to work on Christmas Day? You and Grelle were having your own Christmas here and now.


End file.
